This morning as I crested the top of the escalator, I saw a single flower tumbling at the top, where the moving stairs meet the unmoving metal grate. I watched as people stepped around the beautiful bloom, relieved that people did not intentionally crush it under their shoes. As I came up to meet it, I quickly bent over and scooped it up. (If you know skytrains in downtown Vancouver during rush hour, you’ll appreciate I kinda took my life into my own hands!)
I tucked this single, beautiful flower into my purse. When I got to work, I placed it in a bowl of water and placed it in the sun on my desk.
This flower, tumbling alone at the top of the escalator, was left to die. And, separated from its plant, grounded and connected to its roots, WILL ultimately die. But the thought of letting such a thing of beauty be trampled, destroyed and discarded with such careless disregard broke my heart.
While I cannot make it live, I can relieve its suffering. In it’s remaining days it will be nourished by the water it rests in while it bathes in the sunlight that shines on it.
And even in its broken state, it continues to provide joy to those who love it, its beauty still intact and its fragility and simplicity still appreciated.
Love is like this flower. Whether dealing with end of life, or with being ostracized from a family of origin or with whatever painful ordeal that leaves someone alone and isolated, it doesn’t mean that only suffering remains. Love people however they come to you and appreciate them for as long as they are with you.